The War of the Americas - Part XI

Sylvia knew she had only moments to make a decision that might very well be her last. After what he had revealed, the General would never let her leave his office, let alone the base, alive. She did not know how much more he might plan to say or how much time she may have, and her mind raced as she considered then quickly discarded one idea after another. Stalling for time by attempting to plead innocence was a losing strategy. The General knew she was an agent of the CIA and would not be convinced otherwise. She was confident she could easily take him in one-on-one combat if she chose to try and fight her way out, but she also knew he was not alone. They were surrounded by his best, most capable men. They remained invisible, but Sylvia knew they were there, and it would not be possible to take them all before at least one of them got a bullet into her or a knife. It was not so much the fact of their numbers or even skill level, she had taken on large numbers of highly trained opponents before and come out on top. It was more about the lack of knowledge of the terrain upon which she would be fighting. She had no idea of the layout of the room she was in beyond the lighted circle where her interrogation by the General had taken place. Of the base beyond this room, she knew even less having been blindfolded the very few times she had been escorted anywhere. After she had exhausted all possible options in her mind, she was resigned to fight it out. If she were going to die, it would be on her feet, and even though she knew she had no chance, she would make the enemy pay a heavy price. Sylvia prepared mentally for the fight to come, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, centering herself. Just as she was about to leap out of her chair and attack there was a tremendous explosion, then almost immediately after two more. The building shook and she almost fell to the ground, only managing to stay upright by grabbing onto the edge of the General’s large wooden desk. The lights went out briefly, then flickered back on, much dimmer, and mostly red, as the emergency backup power kicked in. Debris fell from the ceiling and dust choked the air as klaxons wailed. Suddenly a young Mexican soldier ran straight past her to the General speaking quickly, his voice quivering with excitement and fear, “Sir, it’s the Americans. They have found us. Those explosions were the impacts from three cruise missiles launched from near San Diego. Everything topside is destroyed. We have lost at least a thousand men and women.” At that, the young soldier’s voice trailed off, and he almost broke down, but regained his composure some before speaking again. “Sir, what hope do we have against the Americans? How can we possibly win when they can strike us with such force with such ease.” The General took hold of the young soldier by his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, there was a sadness evident in his own eyes, and in his voice as he spoke. “Son, there are no winners in war, the only question is how much do you lose? How much can you afford to lose? But as to your question, others have asked themselves the same, the Viet-Cong, the Taliban, and they endured, just as we shall. Now, I need you to gather up all our surviving forces and sound the general evacuation order. I will activate the base self-destruct procedure. The Americans will already have launched a B2 stealth bomber from Whiteman air force base in Missouri. It will be carrying at least one bunker buster.” The B-2 Spirit stealth bomber was only 30minutes from attack distance as the General spoke. A portion of its ordinance payload did consist of two 30,000-pound GBU-57 Massive Ordnance Penetrators (MOPs), commonly known as bunker busters. Although they are precision guided, unlike most bombs of that variety they are not designed to hit the target, but rather to hit beside it, then penetrate under it, creating a shock wave and large cavern or hole which the target then collapses into, obliterating and burying it in one step. They were designed to destroy other weapons, specifically weapons of mass destruction hidden in well-protected facilities deep underground. In this case the target was not a weapons storage site, however, it was built deep under a mountain and thus its capabilities would be ideal which his why the president had personally ordered its use in this attack.

After a brief fit of dust induced coughing the General continued “I don’t want to give the Americans the satisfaction of destroying this base. They will find it already buried by the time they arrive. Tell the men to head to the tunnels, take as much food and water as they can carry, bring nothing else, essential survival supplies only. One weapon per man. We can resupply with arms easily in many nearby locations so don’t waste precious space that could be used for more food or water. Now move son. Double time it. Viva la Mexico!” The young soldier was obviously reassured by the General’s thoughtful replies and calm decisive actions, a sign of genuine leadership. Sylvia could not help but feel grudging respect for the man in that moment. Those feelings stood in great contrast to her feelings about her current President. If only our president could be more like this General she thought to herself. The young soldier gave a crisp salute “Viva la Mexico General, May she live forever.” Then he quickly spun around and raced away at full speed to execute the orders he had been given.